


The Curse of the Pig-Faced Boy

by whiskygalore



Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Alpha Jared Padalecki, Alpha/Omega, Bottom Jensen, Community: spn_cinema, M/M, Omega Jensen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-30
Updated: 2017-11-30
Packaged: 2019-02-08 11:54:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,729
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12863985
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whiskygalore/pseuds/whiskygalore
Summary: Thanks to a vengeful witch, Jensen was born with his great great grandfather's nose. Apparently, only the love and acceptance of one of his own kind will break the curse of the snout. His mother has decided that means Jensen must marry another Omega, Jensen isn't entirely sure he's happy about that.





	The Curse of the Pig-Faced Boy

**Author's Note:**

> Written, in rather a rush, for the Spn_Cinema challenge, and based on the movie Penelope which is my go to feel good movie. If you haven't seen it, go watch it (although I apologise in advance for the slightly off putting American accents). I've wanted to J2 it for years, and although it turned out much harder to do than I imagined, I'm glad I finally did it. There are, I have to admit, a few lines of dialogue which were just too brilliant not to steal, sorry!! 
> 
> Thanks so much to the Mods for running this challenge. It's my first time participating and it's been a lot of fun!!

 

 

 

Growing up there was one thing that Jensen Ackles knew for sure; his great great grandfather was a total pig. Not that Jensen's parents ever admitted as much, but dumping your poor pregnant Omega girlfriend in order to marry a beta heiress was, in Jensen's opinion, a major dick move. So, Jensen completely understood why, when the heartbroken Omega had thrown herself over a cliff to her bloody death, her furious father had placed a curse on Jensen’s great great grandfather. As far as Jensen was concerned he should have cut off the asshole’s knot and used it as a purse.

Jensen was, however, undeniably miffed that _he_ was the one who ended up paying for his ancestor’s assholery. 

As though being born Omega wasn’t bad enough luck already. 

The witch—because of course, as Jensen’s luck would have it the scorned Omega’s father was secretly a bonifide witch—had cursed the Ackles family before disappearing into the night on his broomstick; according to family legend anyway. The details of the curse were vague, but the gist was; the first Ackles to be born Omega would be doomed to have the face of a pig. The curse—again according to family legend which Jensen frankly didn’t place too much faith in—could only be lifted by ‘the acceptance and love of one of the Omega’s own kind’. 

Now, while Jensen thought the whole _love of one of your own kind thing_ was pretty vague, his mother did not. She had decided right from the start—after she’d consulted the best surgeons in the country and been told by every last one of them that, no...blood vessels in weird places, plastic surgery was not an option—her life’s mission was to find an Omega, a rich one preferably, for Jensen to marry. 

So far, she wasn’t having much luck. Ever since he’d turned eighteen she’d been shoving well-bred Omegas of every description at him and so far every single one of them had run screaming at first sight of his snout.

Jensen was at the point of giving up. Omega’s weren’t particularly common in the first place, and in the past three years, Jensen was sure his mother had sniffed out every acceptable Omega in the state. Possibly the country. 

“Well, Jensen,” his mother had said when he’d pointed this out, “we’ll just have to search further afield. Perhaps we should take a trip. I hear Omegas in the Antipodes are particularly lovely.” 

That idea had piqued Jensen’s interest. God only knew he was thoroughly sick of the sight of the Ackles' mansion. His mother hadn’t let him outside the gates in almost twenty years. A trip to the local park would be an adventure, never mind travelling to a whole other continent.

Unfortunately, when it came down to it, his mother decided instead to make one last ditch effort to find him an Omega closer to home. Over the past two months she and her assistant Misha had dredged up every last Omega they could find. And honestly, even if they hadn’t all taken one look at Jensen’s face and sprinted out of the house like they’d come face to face with he devil, he wouldn’t have wanted to marry a single one of them. Jensen might have been desperate, but unlike his mother he still had standards. 

Truth be told, whilst marrying another Omega would—supposedly—break the curse, Omegas really weren’t his type at all. Especially not the girls. Although Jensen could appreciate the aesthetics of a generous pair of boobs, or long shapely legs, that wasn’t what he dreamt off when he had a little ‘alone time’. No, what Jensen wanted was someone taller than him, and broader, bigger all over; wide shoulders, a firm ass, a big dick, and a nice thick knot. That last one was very important. Not that Jensen’s mother cared.

“Really Jensen, sex isn’t all that matters. Goodness, once you’re married and finally have the pretty face you’re supposed to have, you can have sex with whomever you want.” 

“But I’ll be married.” Jensen had pointed out the flaw in her plan. “Till death us do part and all that.”

His mother had brushed off that argument so easily that Jensen found himself sharing a concerned look with his father. “As long as you’re discreet Jensen, I’m sure your wife won’t mind. And frankly, once your nose is your own and not your great great grandfather’s, it doesn’t really matter who you bed. I’m sure you have a lot of time to make up for.”

Although Jensen was not comfortable discussing his sex life with his mother, she was not wrong. Living under house arrest since before he was old enough to figure out what his dick was for, meant that his sexual experiences—outside of his own right hand—were limited, or more specifically nonexistent. If it wasn’t for online shopping Jensen didn’t like to think how he’d have ever survived his, thankfully infrequent, heats. The thought of asking his mother or his father to buy him a knotting dildo gave him nightmares. Although Jensen was sure even the fanciest dildo was no substitute for the real thing. As a twenty one year old virgin, he was beginning to doubt he’d ever find out.

“Okay,” Misha said looking down at his clipboard. “We have five hopefuls today. We’re just waiting on the last one turning up.”

“Awesome,” Jensen said dryly, snagging a bag of Doritos from the cupboard. Nothing like a little junk food to go along with the entertainment. “Put them all in the study.”

The study had a one way mirror and a nifty speaker system so Jensen could see and talk to his victims, or rather prospective suitors, without them seeing him. It was all very clever. The theory being they’d have a chance to get to know him before they were assaulted by his pig ugly face. Not that this theory had worked out so far. 

“They’ve all signed the non-disclosure forms too.” Misha checked a box on his sheet. 

“Awesome,” Jensen said again. “Can’t have word getting out about the Ackles freak can we?”

“Jensen.” Jensen should be immune to his mother’s disapproval by now, but it still made him cringe. He knew, deep down, she had his best interests at heart. She was just rather bullheaded about the way she went about things. 

To be fair to her, she’d never fully recovered from the scandal and media frenzy that had exploded after Jensen’s birth. The incident that pushed her over the edge was one over-enthusiastic reporter breaking into Jensen's nursery to sneak a photo of the aristocratic Ackles pig-faced boy. She'd discovered the intrepid journalist in the airing cupboard, smashed his camera and jabbed him in the eye with the poker she just happened to have in her hand. Then, before the reporter had even been released from hospital, she’d faked Jensen's death, cremated his fictitious remains and moved them all to the other side of the city. 

Jensen's father didn't exactly approve of her over-zealous approach, but in the interest of a quiet life had gone along with her anyway. He’d been doing the same thing for the past twenty years.

Since the Weatherly incident a few weeks ago, his mother’s paranoia had only increased. That douche had managed to run off without signing one of Misha’s agreements. Even their usually quick footed butler Jeff hadn’t managed to grab him before he leapt over the front gate. He’d run screaming to the police and the papers with a story about a monstrous pig creature. Thankfully, he’d run there via the pub so they took his farfetched rantings for drunken hallucinations.

The incident hadn’t done much for Weatherly’s reputation. Or Jensen’s ego to be honest. Although his mother did decide to buy Jeff a new pair of running shoes, so there was at least a silver lining for someone. 

“You know I don’t like it when you call yourself a freak, dear,” his mother said, following him to the room backing onto the study, her kitten heels snapping across the hardwood floor. 

“Yes, mother,” Jensen said automatically, peering through the glass. Misha was ushering everyone in, checking them off his list. They all looked utterly dull. Except perhaps the disheveled giant tripping over his own feet at the back of the line. Misha gave him a double take before writing something on his list and checking another box. He did not look like your usual Omega. He stood head and shoulders above everyone else for a start. And while he was certainly pretty enough there was something about the width of his shoulders, the spark in his eyes, and the generous bulge in his pants, that seemed at odds with the usual Omega stereotype. But then again, nobody, least of all Jensen should fall for all that stereotype bullshit. 

Oh well, Jensen thought to himself, it hardly mattered; no point in getting his hopes up. Tall guy would be out of here like a shot when he set eyes on Jensen. Just like everyone else.

 

******

 

Jared didn’t really know what he was doing here. Except he was broke. Seriously, down to a jar of relish and the remains of a soggy cucumber in the bottom of his fridge broke. He’d gambled away the last twenty dollars he’d had to his name at the poker tables; unfortunately, not an unusual story for him. So when a squirrelly dude wearing an eye patch and a weaselly looking Omega with a bad attitude asked him if he was Samuel Winchester he’d said yes. Actually, he’d said no. Until eye patch dude had mentioned a job. And more importantly...money. 

Both men had been a little suspicious when Jared stood up revealing his full height and build, but thanks to blockers and the thick stench of smoke and booze in the club, they’d taken Jared’s word that he was indeed an Omega. And as long as Jared didn’t have to whip off his pants to prove it, he was quite happy to pretend to be Samuel, down on his luck omega son of the Boston Winchester’s. As long as the case of mistaken identity worked in Jared’s favor he wasn’t complaining. He didn’t imagine that when the real Samuel Winchester came back from the men’s room he’d even notice that his lanky Alpha poker buddy had disappeared.

 

And now he was here. In this insane mansion, signing some weird contract, and apparently about to meet some dude called Jensen who looked like a pig. All he had to do to earn his cash was take a photo of said pig-faced dude which didn’t seem like too hard of a task; at least not once he’d convinced clipboard guy that he was indeed the Samuel Winchester on his list. And yes he was an Omega, how dare he suggest otherwise. 

Jared's main problem was figuring out how to work the hidden camera. While the other candidates, contestants, interviewees—Jared wasn’t sure how best to describe them—chatted amongst themselves he dove down behind the sofa and tried to figure out how to get the ancient relic of a camera to work. 

Which was how he somehow managed not to notice everyone running from the room screaming. Or rather he noticed the sudden silence, but couldn’t quite figure out the cause of it. He stood up and looked around and found the room deserted. That was odd. 

“Really Jensen, did you have to do that? Couldn’t you have eased them into it? Talked to them a little first?”

The voice seemed to be coming from a speaker beside the mirror. 

“Mother, if they can’t stand the sight of me then I doubt a little polite conversation will make much difference.”

Now, that voice was much nicer that the snipped tones of the first speaker; a little deeper, and softer, with a musical lilt that Jared wouldn't mind hearing more of.

“Well, now we’ll never know will we? Honestly, Jensen, sometimes I don’t think you want to find a suitable Omega.” Snippy sounded pissed, and Jared was starting to grow uncomfortable eavesdropping. 

“Hello?” He called out to the empty room. 

“Jensen,” Snippy hissed. “Look!”

Jared winced as the sound system squealed in annoyance, and then abruptly went dead. 

“Well, okay then,” he shrugged, and decided to investigate the room while he waited for the next weird thing to happen. The room was tastefully decorated, if you found red chintz wallpaper and deep pile carpet tasteful. He’d lay bets the mahogany furniture was the real deal and not Ikea flat packed. The room, like the rest of the mansion, reeked of old money. 

The books in the bookcase weren’t your normal dime store trash either. As he browsed through them, he didn’t find a single one that wasn’t a first edition. Several were signed. Jared bet he could clear his debts by selling just one of these books. His hand seemed to move of its own accord slipping the book he’d been looking through towards his inside jacket pocket. 

“Are you a big fan of Emily Summer?” Jared jumped guiltily and spun around to face the mirror. 

“I’m sorry?” he said, to the empty room. 

“The book. In your hand. The Roman Adventurers.”

Jared slid the book as smoothly as possible out of his jacket, flipping through the pages. “It’s one of my favorites actually.” 

“Really?” the voice scoffed. “Because I was under the impression that was the only surviving copy.”

“Hmmm,” Jared said, feigning nonchalance.

“You know,” the voice carried on when it became obvious Jared wasn’t about to incriminate himself. “There are over three hundred first editions in that study. Two hundred and fifty of them are worth at least fifty thousand dollars. Another thirty over twenty thousand. And there’s only one sad little book that’s worth less than a hundred.”

Jared smiled wryly and held the book up. “It figures.”

“So you’re not a literary fan then?”

“No," Jared tried to laugh the whole thing off. "I’m more a fan of the money to be honest."

“That's a shame," the gentle tones sympathized. "Because I’m afraid it looks like you and the money just weren’t meant to be.” 

Jared shrugged and smiled ruefully, the guy wasn’t wrong.

“Did you see me?”

“See you?” The strange, and rather random, question startled Jared into looking up from the book in his hand and back to the mirror again. He didn’t particularly like what he saw. Too little sleep, too little food and too much stress was not a recipe for model looks. 

“You didn’t see me?”

“I didn’t?” Jared wasn’t entirely sure what they were talking about.

The guy huffed. “Are you messing with me?” 

“No,” Jared shook his head and walked up to the mirror frowning at the bags under his eyes. “I’m really not. Did you want me to see you? Because I presume you can see me and that seems a little unfair.”

“What’s unfair is you trying to steal one of my books.”

“I wouldn’t have taken it." He didn't think so at least. He hadn't stooped as low as stealing. Not yet. "I’m an idiot. And a gambler. An unlucky one. But I’m not a thief.”

“Not a good one at any rate, or you’d have picked any of the hundreds of books that were actually worth something.”

“This is worth something.” Jared flicked through the worn pages again before looking up at the mirror. “To you.”

“What?”

“It’s your favorite isn’t it?”

There was silence. Jared knew the guy was still there though. He could feel the weight of eyes on him, like an insignificant bug under a magnifying glass. 

“Moby Dick. Top shelf. Third from the right.”

Puzzled, Jared didn’t move. “I’m sorry?”

“It’s a first edition. If you’re only here for the money, just take that one. But try and be a bit more stealthy this time.”

“I’m not here for the money," Jared said, indignant. Until he remembered...he was. How had he forgotten? He was here to steal a photo. A photo of Jensen the pig-faced boy. Whom he was presumably talking to. 

“Hello?” Jared called out. No reply. 

“Hello?” He tried again, tapping on the mirror like it was a gold fish bowl. “Jensen? It is Jensen isn’t it? Are you still there?”

Jared waited a few minutes before admitting defeat. Strangely disappointed, he carefully placed the book back in the cabinet and was almost out of the door when Jensen’s voice came through the speaker again.

“Will you come back?”

“I knew it,” Jared spun around, grinning at the mirror. “I knew you were still there.”

“Tomorrow?” 

Jared nodded. “Tomorrow.”

 

He was still grinning, happier than he’d felt in his months for no palpable reason, when he made it back to the black van where eyepatch Chad and douchnozzle Weatherly were waiting. They were not impressed when he came back empty handed.

“What do you mean you didn’t get the photo?”

“I didn’t get the photo,” Jared repeated slowly to Weatherly just to see him scowl, before directing his attention towards Chad. “Don’t worry, I’m coming back tomorrow.” And he was, oddly, looking forward to it. 

 

*****

 

 

The book in Jensen’s hand was heavier than normal. The weight of what happened yesterday sitting in its pages.

“He’ll turn up,” Misha said, full of confidence. 

“Hmm,” Jensen said, distracted. “I thought he knew, you know?”

“Knew what?” Misha asked, head tilted in confusion.

“That it was my favorite book. But I wrote it, right here, look.” Jensen opened the front cover and pointed to the inside where he’d written in neatly printed letters. ‘My favorite book, Jensen Ackles, age seven and three quarters.’ 

Misha smiled at him, his blue eyes crinkling at the corners. “But still, out of the hundreds of books he could have picked up, he chose this one. That has to mean something doesn’t it?”

 

“Are you sure you’re an Omega?” Jensen asked. Sam had, as promised, turned up at the same time as the day before. He looked just as exhausted. And kind of skinny considering the width of his shoulders.

“Wow, rude much,” Sam said, but his eyes were laughing.

Jensen huffed. “I prefer to think of myself as blunt rather than rude. So, are you? You’re pretty big for an Omega.”

"Why thank you," Sam grinned, looking down pointedly at his crotch.

Jensen was grateful that Sam couldn't see his blush. "That's not what I meant. I was referring to your height. You're tall, and broad...your shoulders." And also distractingly handsome but Jensen wasn't going to mention that. "You're hardly a typical Omega."

“Aren’t you judgey?” Sam smirked through the glass.

“I am not,” Jensen bit back, not very convincingly. 

Sam snorted at the obvious lie, but he was still smiling so Jensen didn’t think he’d offended him. “I’d hardly be here if I wasn’t an Omega would I? Ooh, a chess set, you play?”

Jensen did. And as it turned out, much better than Sam who tried to move his king in ways which a king should never be moved. Jensen hadn’t rolled his eyes so hard ever. But nor had he ever had as much fun. Sam was like a breath of fresh air in a stuffy room. He was loud and clumsy and said things that no polite Omega should ever say, but he made Jensen laugh. And almost forget why there was a mirror separating them. 

Jared hadn’t asked to see Jensen again; hadn’t asked him to step out from his hiding place behind the glass. And Jensen, for a change, wasn’t in a rush to scare him away. So he stayed there, safe, watching Sam play with chess pieces like a little kid playing with action figures; making the knights battle, and the king and queen make out. He was ridiculous. 

“You’re ridiculous,” Jensen pointed out.

“And you’re rude.” Sam stuck out his tongue. “And kind of grumpy.”

“Will you come back and see me tomorrow?”

“Sure,” Sam smiled wide, and Jensen’s heart stuttered at the sight of those dimples.

 

As good as his word Sam came back the next day and the next. Jensen could almost hear the wedding bells playing in his mother’s head. And although he would never admit it, for the first time in forever he thought he could maybe be falling a little in love. And it wasn’t because he thought Sam could break the curse. It was because Sam was just Sam; gorgeous and kind and funny and clever, although he disguised that cleverness behind self-effacing jokes and clown-feet clumsiness. 

Unfortunately, Jensen was so accustomed to running off anyone that was supposedly interested in him—or more likely interested in his parent’s money—that he wasn’t sure how to act. He was aware that his shyness came across as prickliness. God knows, Misha had reminded him to play nice so many times now that they’d both grown sick of hearing it. Jensen tried, he did. But growing up with just his parents, and Jeff the butler, as playmates hadn’t graced him with the best social skills. 

He wasn’t an idiot though. He knew, despite Sam’s denials, that the guy was having a rough time. And although he couldn’t do much to help, Jensen figured the least; the very least he could do, would be to feed him. His wrists were far too skinny for Jensen’s liking. His face too close to gaunt. And so he made sure that there were plates of food; sandwiches, fruit, cookies and muffins that he’d baked himself. He even set out bottles of Pepsi and Mountain Dew and beer. He didn’t second guess the beer until it was too late. Until Sam picked it up and started scrutinizing the label. If Sam had issues with alcohol as well as gambling Jensen had seriously messed up. 

He stood at the mirror anxiously watching.

“What the hell is this?” Sam didn’t sound angry, more perplexed.

“Beer.” Jensen replied, only refraining from adding ‘dumbass’ because he wasn’t one hundred percent sure he hadn’t screwed up. 

Sam shook his head sadly. “No man. I don’t know what this is, but it sure as hell isn't beer.”

“What?” Jensen peered through the glass. “Of course it’s beer. It says so right there on the label.”

Sam shot Jensen a dubious look before expertly popping the cap off the bottle with his thumb and taking a drink. Jensen tried not to feel bitter than he couldn't open a beer that easily with a bottle opener. Jensen swallowed at the same time as Sam, watching the long line of his throat bob when Sam tipped his head back. He had to adjust himself in his pants watched the Omega's lips practically caress the bottle.

“Dude,” Sam grimaced when he came up for air. “This is not beer. This is...I don’t even know what this is.”

Jensen bristled. “Well, I like it.”

“No,” Sam said, mulishly, as though Jensen had offered an opinion rather than stated a fact. 

Jensen didn’t hide his impatience. “What do you mean _no_?”

“I mean no. This is dishwater, not beer.”

“Well,” Jensen huffed, not pouting, not that Sam could see anyway. “It’s the only beer I drink. I’ve ever drunk. And I like it.”

“This is the only beer you’ve ever had?” Sam’s eyebrows jumped up almost comically. “You mean you’ve never had a real beer?”

“That is a—“ Jensen started to object before Sam rudely cut him off.

“No, it’s not a real beer, Jensen. So, you’ve never gone to a pub? Never had a beer on tap?”

Jensen shook his head, and Sam obviously took his silence for confirmation. 

“We should do that. Head on down to the Lucky Heather Pub.”

“The Lucky Heather Pub?”

“Sure, best beer, best nachos, and best banter in town. How about it, you and me, right now.”

Jensen’s breath stuck in his chest. He wanted to, as much as the thought terrified him, he really wanted to. He could imagine it; sitting beside Sam in a bar, maybe Sam's arm draped around his shoulder, their thighs brushing and feet tangled together. It would be so wonderfully normal. If Jensen wasn't a freak.

“Jensen?”

“Maybe...maybe later.”

For the first time Sam seemed to grow impatient with him. “Come on, Jensen. You’ve got to get out of here sooner or later.”

Jensen flushed cold and then hot and said nothing.

“What are you waiting for? There’s a whole world out there. Jensen?”

Sam paced from one side of the room to the other while Jensen sat silent and scared on his side of the mirror, biting viciously at his lip until he tasted the tang of blood on his tongue. He didn't stop, didn't breathe, until Sam finally wore out his frustration and came back to sit at his usual place opposite Jensen.

Like nothing had happened, Sam started talking, casual and relaxed, as though Jensen was taking part in the conversation rather than having a silent panic attack. “Meh, maybe you’re right; I guess the world out there isn’t that great a place.”

“It’s not?” Jensen reply was soft, a little shaky, but at least he’d said something. 

“Well, the Lucky Heather is great, and the bakery around the corner is awesome. It sells donuts, and muffins, and the best pie in the world. And nearby, there's the coolest little bookshop and, oh...and the park, I love the park. I used to sit in the park for hours, beside the pond, just thinking and writing and people watching.”

“Used to?” Jensen asked. “You don’t anymore?”

Sam slumped slightly in his seat, ran his hand through his hair, the long strands tangling in his fingers. “Not so much.”

Jensen yearned to lift the sadness that seemed to have settled over the other Omega. Wanted to see his dimples reappear, his hazel eyes flash with happiness.“Maybe one day...one day...you could take me there. To the park. To...to people watch. It sounds lovely.”

“Yeah?” Sam brightened, just a little. “You’d like that?”

“Yes,” Jensen nodded, finding that it was true. That the more he thought about it, about walking with Sam hand in hand, through a park, smelling flowers and watching children play, the more he wished it was a dream that could come true. “Yes, I’d like to do that...with you.”

 

*****

 

“What do you mean you haven’t got the photo yet? What are you even doing in there? Jesus, he showed himself to me straight away.”

“Well I guess he liked you more,” Jared snapped, wishing Weatherly and Chad would just leave him alone. Every time he left the mansion after visiting Jensen, they’d be there waiting in the van. Two weeks in and they hadn’t quit. 

Michael sneered, which wasn’t much different from his usual expression. “He’s going after the dowry,” he said to Chad. “I mean the couple thousand you gave him is nothing compared to the thousands he would get his grubby hands on if he actually married the beast.”

Jared shook his head, not interested in listening to Weatherly’s bullshit. Even Chad, the low life trash journalist, seemed to be running out of patience for listening to his whiny voice. 

“Well, you forget that I’ve seen him,” Weatherly continued, turning his attention fully on Jared, his weasel eyes echoing the vicious glee in his voice. “And he’s _grotesque_.”

“Shut up,” Jared said, his jaw clenched almost painfully tight. “Shut him up, Chad or I’ll—“

“I’m talking unkissable ugly. Nightmare ugly. Pig slit eyes and fangs and—“

Jared shoved his hand over Weatherly’s mouth; a restrained move because what he wanted to do was punch his face. “Listen you pea brained, chinless worm...oh my god, did you just lick me? Jesus Christ, he just fucking licked me.”

Jared shoved Weatherly away and wiped his hand on his pants. 

Chad shoved Weatherly too and snapped, “Don’t lick Sam.” Then he turned to Jared. “But you’ve got to see why we’re suspicious. It’s been weeks.”

Jared threw his hands in the air and turned to walk away. “You know what, fine. I quit. Find someone else to do your dirty work. This is messed up anyway.”

“Fine,” Chad called after him. “No problem. Just give us back the money.”

Jared couldn’t. And Chad knew it. And that’s why Jared couldn’t walk away. No matter how sick he felt setting Jensen up like this. No matter how much he’d slowly grown to adore the clever Omega with the sharp tongue and soft heart that he’d never even set eyes on. Money was why, in the end, Jared would betray him. Jared couldn’t imagine how he was going to live with himself afterwards.

 

It was Jared’s clumsiness that ended up being his downfall. He made it almost four weeks. Four weeks of chess games, and laughter, and arguments, and dreams woven into stories. Four weeks of eating Jensen’s home baking and sandwiches and trying to educate him about beer and people and life outside his sheltered existence. Which sounded increasingly like a prison the more Jensen talked about it. With his mother as the prison guard. And having met the formidable woman, Jared knew how well she fit the role. 

“No, no, no!” Jensen’s laughter as always made Jared’s heart float feather light in his chest. “That’s not how you do it.”

“It’s not?” Jared grinned towards the mirror. “Maybe you should demonstrate how it’s supposed to be done, if you're so smart."

“Maybe I should,” Jensen giggled. “I couldn’t be worse than you.”

Jared didn’t know whether it was Jensen’s casual suggestion that he might finally come out from his hiding place, or his own normal long-limbed clumsiness, but in the blink of an eye he went from playing with the old yo-yo he’d found in a cupboard, to tangling the string around his ankle, to falling flat on his face.

He hit the floor with an ‘unf’, the air rushing from his lungs. He was winded, nothing worse. The only reason he didn’t bounce back up to his feet was because he was laughing so hard.

Jensen though, must have taken his prone wheezing for something rather more serious, because a minute later Jared felt a hand on his arm, and heard a soft voice in his ear that made his stomach flip and giggles die his throat. 

“Are you...are you okay?”

Jared climbed to his feet, the stupid yo-yo abandoned and forgotten. And the camera inside his jacket lying unnoticed on the floor. 

“Shit,” he gasped. 

Jensen stepped back, his hand slapping across his nose. 

“Shit,” Jared repeated. Jensen was beautiful. He had the greenest eyes Jared had even seen. And dirty blonde hair, that looked soft and fluffy and eminently touchable, and freckles, tiny golden freckles. And he smelled divine. Like heaven. Sweet and perfect. Just...perfect.

Jensen took Jared’s awestruck silence in the worst possible way. “I’m a monster.” 

“No! No, Jensen you’re not.” But Jensen was turning and running while Jared just stood, frozen to the spot. 

It took Jared a minute too long to snap into action, following Jensen out of the door, down the long marble staircase, and out the front door. “Jensen, wait. Please!”

Jensen was in front of the house, his mother and her assistant, Misha, beside him.

“He just stood there, looking at me,” Jensen was saying. 

His mother shook his arm. “But _you_ ran, Jensen, not him. It was _you_ who ran this time. Come back. Come back inside. Talk to him.”

“Jensen,” Jared called again, and all three of them turned his way. Jensen’s eyes bright and glassy. “It’s not mine,” Jensen said, voice strangled, desperate.

Jared shook his head, confused. “What?”

“This nose...it’s not mine, not who I am inside, not really.”

“Jensen...”

“Marry me,” Jensen said, pleaded. “Marry me, Sam, and break the curse and the real me, the one trapped inside, will come out. I’ll be just like everyone else I promise.”

Shame washed over Jared like an ice cold shower. He wasn’t Sam. And he wasn’t an Omega. He wasn’t one of Jensen’s own kind. He couldn’t break the curse.

“And what if you’re not?” Jared asked. “What if the curse is never broken?”

Jensen's already fair skin paled to translucent. “Then...then I’ll kill myself I promise.”

Jared felt sick, his knees close to buckling.

“Hey, did you finally get the damn photo? What are you waiting for? Let's go!"

Jared cursed under his breath.

"Weatherly?" Misha snapped. "What photo?"

Everyone turned to stare at Michael Weatherly, standing at the bottom of the garden; Chad, running up behind him trying to drag him away, too late. Jensen may not have recognized Chad but his mother did.

“That...that’s the odious little man who broke in and tried to take Jensen’s photo when he was a baby. He’s the trash reporter that forced me to kill and cremate you, Jensen! You...” she turned to Jared. “You’re working with him? With them! Get out. Get off my property. Jeff?” Her already shrill voice rose to a whole new eardrum shattering level. “Jeff! Get these lowlife rats away from my house.”

“Marry me,” Jensen implored, as though his mother wasn’t screaming and Jeff wasn’t rushing out the door towards Jared like a rabid guard dog. “Please, Sam, marry me.”

But Jared couldn’t. “I can’t Jensen. I’m sorry.”

And then Jeff was bundling Jared out through the gates, leaving bruises on Jared’s arms that he more than deserved. 

“Did you get the photo, Winchester? We needed that. We paid you for that.”

Fury tearing through his veins, pounding at his temples, Jared rounded on Weatherly, not believing that the asshole was still focused on that. “Did you even see him? Did you? He’s not what you said. He’s nothing like what you said. He’s not a p...pig. He’s not a monster. He’s a _boy_. He’s only a boy. Just...just leave him alone. Leave him the hell alone.”

Jared stormed away, equally angry and disgusted at himself. How many lives had he just damaged? How many lies had he told? How badly had he just hurt the man he might have loved. This was it. The lowest he’d ever sunk. The worst thing he’d ever done. Things had to change. He had to change.

 

*****

 

The Lucky Heather pub was a dump. Dust lay thick on the top shelf bottles, the floor was covered in the most horrific orange flowered carpet that looked like a cat had thrown up on it, and the toilets were best avoided altogether. The beer on tap though, that was delicious. And the people were the nicest Jensen had ever met. Not that he’d met that many in the two months since he’d run away from home. But still, these people were friendly and warm and, after the first couple of weeks of strange looks, content to ignore the fact that Jensen refused to be parted from the huge woolen scarf wrapped around the bottom half of his face, and that he drank his beer through a straw. Nose job gone wrong was the popular theory, one that Jensen was happy to nod along with.

He’d run the very same day that Sam had ripped his heart from his chest, tearing it into confetti right in front of him. He’d liked Sam. More than liked. And for the first time ever he’d thought, or at least distantly hoped that Sam liked him too. Enough to maybe take a chance. 

That horrible night while his mother was already making plans on how to find another Omega; where they could go, what they hadn’t already tried, Jensen had sneaked his father’s wallet from his jacket, packed a bag and fled. He’d had enough of hiding in a golden cage. Of missing out on all the world had to offer. 

He’d hardly run to the ends of the Earth, but he’d found the Lucky Heather pub, rented the tiny room above it to sleep in, and that was adventure enough for now.

“Hey Scarfie, you ready to hit the road?”

Jensen nodded gratefully at Danneel. Danni was his best friend. The first best friend he’d ever had. Apart from Sam. She was a loud mouthed beta with the reddest hair and kindest eyes Jensen had ever seen. She’d taken Jensen under her wing; shown him around the neighborhood, taught him things a grown man shouldn’t need taught, without making him feel like an idiot. Thanks to her, Jensen knew how to use the machines in the Launderette, and where to buy the cheapest bread and milk, and what the heck a Vespa was; Danneel’s chosen mode of transportation. 

Today she was taking him to the park again. One of his new favorite places...once he realized the people running around the pond weren’t chasing him, but simply running for the sake of running, a pastime he thought was weird. But he enjoyed watching the little wooden boats sailing on the pond, and the children playing on the swings, and the dogs chasing balls. As long as his scarf was carefully wrapped across his face, he felt safe. 

They spent hours at the park; Danneel kicking through the dead leaves with childish abandon and Jensen following in her wake pretending he wasn’t doing the same. 

“So, Scarfie,” Danneel knew his name was Jensen so he had no idea why she insisted on the stupid nickname but he’d accepted it was affectionate rather than mocking. “You going to make me more of those awesome cookies anytime soon?”

Jensen blushed below his scarf and shrugged. He didn’t possess many practical skills…oh, he had all the education he could possibly want; well-paid tutors and online college courses made sure of that, and sure he could play the piano and speak three languages because he’d had a lot of friendless free time to fill over the past twenty years, but practical everyday skills...they were not his forte. Cooking though, baking especially, that was something he loved. And loved to share with the few friends he’d made. Danneel and Chris, the landlord of the Lucky Heather pub, couldn’t get enough of his crème puffs and ginger spiced cookies. 

“I thought I’d make a pie,” Jensen said, muffled below his scarf layers. 

“Ooh,” Danneel said. “What kind?”

“Hmm, apple,” Jensen decided. “Apple and blackberry.”

“Nice,” Danneel nodded. “You know you should get a job at the bakery. There’s a sign in the window; they’re looking for someone.”

Jensen hummed noncommittally. A job would be wonderful, but not without its problems.

“That would mean you’d have to lose the scarf though.”

That was indeed the main problem. Jensen hummed again, and Danneel changed the subject.  

“So you want me to take you to the farmers market tomorrow? We can get apples and—“

“Jensen? _Jensen!!_ ”

The shrill voice ringing out across the park was unmissable. And terribly familiar. The hairs on the back of Jensen’s neck stood on end.

“I know that’s you Jensen!”

Jensen’s eyes were wide above his scarf when he saw his mother and father bearing down on him from across the park. “Shit!” Even through a layer of wool his curse was loud. His mother looked furious, and his father looked out of breath, struggling to keep up with Donna Ackles’ furious march towards him.

Danneel stopped dead in her tracks, obviously uncertain about what exactly was happening.

Jensen did the only thing he could think of. He ran. Danneel hot on his heels.

Out of the park towards the one place that he could think of. He made it through the door of the Lucky Heather just ahead of Danneel, knowing his parents weren’t far behind. They weren’t his biggest problem right now though. His biggest problem was the way lights were popping behind his eyes and the room was spinning around him. 

“Jensen?” Danneel sounded very far away and kind of panicked. “Jesus, Jensen.”

One second Jensen was standing and the next he was on the floor looking up at Danneel and Chris’s faces staring down at him.

“He can’t breathe,” Chris was saying. “Call an ambulance.”

“That stupid scarf,” Danneel’s fingers were tugging his woolen shield away from his face and Jensen could do nothing to stop her. The room faded in and out. Or maybe it was Jensen fading in and out. And then Danneel was saying “oh my god,” and his mother was screaming and Jensen decided consciousness was overrated. 

 

Jensen woke up in hospital, his mother hovering by his bedside. Apparently unconsciousness wasn’t enough to protect him from lectures. “What were you thinking, Jensen?” She was ranting before he’d even opened his eyes which led him to believe she’d been on a roll before he’d even come round. If he didn’t urgently need a pee, he’d have happily played possum for a while longer. 

“I was thinking,” he said, blinking his eyes a few times to get accustomed to the yellowish fluorescent lighting flickering overhead. “That I’d had enough of being treated like a freak.”

“Don’t use that word, Jensen,” his mother gasped, fluttering anxiously at his side as he righted himself, and swung his legs over the edge of the bed. “And we didn’t...I would never have treated you like...like that. We just wanted to protect you. To save you from people like Chad Murray.”

Jensen waited until a brief wave of dizziness passed before standing up, relieved that the room didn’t sway around him for longer than a few seconds. And also relieved that the hospital staff hadn’t removed more than his outer clothes and boots. “I don’t need saved, mother. I need a life.”

“Jensen...Jensen where are you going? Don’t you dare walk away from me.”

“I’m going for a pee, mother. And then I’m going back to my own little room and my new friends.” And then Jensen remembered that his friends knew now. Knew what a monster he was. “That is, if they’ll still have me.” 

Jensen opened the door to his room with as much vigor as possible, determined to prove his resolve to his mother, even if was mainly false bravado.

Unfortunately that meant when the eye-patched reporter lurking behind the door took a flurry of photographs, the flash exploding across Jensen’s eyes, he caught the perfect picture of the infamous pig-faced boy.

Three hours later Jensen finally persuaded his parents, and his parent’s nervous doctors, that he was perfectly fine, and that simply refraining from sprinting with a scarf wrapped around his nose and mouth would solve his breathing and fainting issues. By this time though, the hospital entrance was swarming with journalists and cameras. For a boy with little experience of anything other than his own company the fuss was rather overwhelming.

His parents tried to usher him towards their limo through the throng of reporters shoving their mic's and cameras in his face.

“Jensen, Jensen! Do you have any other pig parts? Do you have a pig dick too?”

“Jensen, is it true your parents chained you up in the basement?”

“Jensen do you smell any better than us with that nose?”

Jensen smiled at that one. “Well I don’t know, maybe you should tell me.”

His mother tugged on his arm. “Come on Jensen, get in the car.”

“Well, I guessed something was up after a few weeks because no one takes that long to recover from a nose job, but what the hell, right? None of us are perfect.” And that was Danneel, on her Vespa, holding a spare helmet out in Jensen’s direction.

“Can I have some money, father?” Jensen grinned. “I’m running low.”

His mother slapped his father’s arm as soon as he went for his wallet. “Don’t be ridiculous, Jensen you’re coming home with us. Get in the car.”

Jensen smiled sweetly at the cameras and said under his breath. “They want to know if you locked me in the basement, mother.” 

His mother visibly paled. “What are you waiting for dear, give him some money.”

When Jensen climbed on the back of Danneel’s Vespa, money shoved in his pockets and camera flashes still dazzling his eyes, he felt lighter, giddier than ever before. He felt free.

 

*****

 

The papers were full of it. Everywhere Jared looked. 

_**Jensen the Pig-Faced Boy Lives!** _

_**Jensen the Pig-Faced Boy Meets the Mayor!** _

_**The Pig Speaks Three Languages! (Pig Latin not one of them)** _

_**Scarf Sales Soar Thanks to Jensen!** _

_**Bacon Sales Slump Disaster! (Butchers blame Jensen)** _

Jensen’s face was plastered across the front page of every newspaper for days. Jensen drinking beer with his friends. Jensen meeting school children. Jensen baking cakes. Even weeks later he was still making the news. People eating up stories of all the wonderful things the pig-faced boy could do. For as proud as Jared was of Jensen breaking free from his parents, he hated the papers treating Jensen like a modern day side show attraction. A tamed freak. It made Jared’s stomach sour.

The one consolation, he guessed, was that people genuinely seemed to adore Jensen. Most people at least. One prominent exception being Michael Weatherly. 

_**Weatherly says Jensen Belongs in Zoo!** _

_**Weatherly Out for Jensen’s Bacon!** _

Jared had been furious when he’d read those headlines. But so as it turned out had Weatherly's father; the CEO of Weatherly Banking Systems. The problem, as he’d apparently rather publicly—according to the tabloids—impressed upon his son, the problem with being CEO of a public company was the shareholders. The company had to be seen to love what the public loved. And quite simply, the public loved Jensen. Chad Murray quoting Weatherly as saying Jensen Ackles was a grotesque beast that belonged in a cage had not gone down well at all. Weatherly’s shares had plummeted.

That had helped cool Jared’s fury just a little. Saved him from doing anything reckless. Something he was trying his best to avoid these days. Mostly he was succeeding. He hadn’t magically transformed into a church-going saint, but he was doing better. The major change he’d made was the gambling. He’d walked away from the poker tables for the last time and finally found himself a job. It wasn’t brilliant, but it was steady and had long hours which gave him less time to think about gambling. And Jensen. 

 

He’d given in to temptation once. Not to gamble, but to see Jensen. He’d found him in the Lucky Heather pub surrounded by a crowd of people. Happy and laughing and even more gorgeous than Jared remembered. His green eyes brighter, his cinnamon sugar freckles darker and the laughter lines beside his eyes a tiny bit deeper.

Jared hadn’t made up his mind whether or not to approach Jensen when Jensen spotted him. Jared’s heart had stuttered, his belly swooped, as Jensen crossed the room, uncertainty dragging his feet.

“It’s good to see you,” Jared had said once he’d unglued his tongue from the roof of his suddenly dry mouth. “You...you look good.”

“So do you,” Jensen had said, but his lips were narrow and his eyes sad. “What do you want?”

You, Jared had wanted to say, Jensen’s scent, sweet and spicy and everything delicious tickling at his nose, even through the liquor soaked atmosphere. I want you. I love you. I want to make you mine. 

“What do you want, Sam?” Jensen had repeated. 

And Jared’s words died in his mouth. Because nothing had changed. He wasn’t who Jensen thought he was. Who Jensen needed him to be. All he could offer were limp apologies and after Jensen told him graphically what he could do with them, Jared once again walked away from the boy he loved. And another little piece of his heart withered and died. 

And then a few weeks later, on the same day that the worst headline of all appeared in the newspapers, Jared had finally saved enough money to ease his conscience.

He threw the money filled envelope down on Chad’s desk. “That’s your money. Most of it at least. I imagine you’re happy now? You showed the pig-faced boy to the world. Proved you were right?"

“I know I went too far. I swear, I never wanted to hurt him,” Chad was quick to say. He was also quick to pick up the envelope of money. 

Jared snorted. “What did you want then?”

Chad shrugged and threw the newspaper at Jared. “To get back at his bitch of a mother mainly. Anyway, looks like Jensen’s getting what he wanted after all.”

Jared let the newspaper fall to the floor. He’d seen it once and that was enough;

**_Jensen’s Fairytale_ _Wedding!_ **

“Yeah, sure he is. Marrying the man of his dreams right?”

“Jensen and the beast,” Chad grimaced. “As if it’s not obvious to the whole world Weatherly’s only doing it because daddy dearest told him to. Nothing like a fairytale marriage for free feel good publicity.”

“Well, at least Weatherly will break the curse.” 

Chad shot Jared a sharp look. “You actually believe all that crap? About the curse?”

“You don’t?”

“No! Christ, you think what? Michael Weatherly is gonna marry Jensen and poof, Jensen’s gonna suddenly lose the snout? Jesus, get real, Sam, that guy is an asshole. He’s not marrying Jensen because he loves him. Even if it was a curse, you think that would break it?”

Jared hoped so for Jensen’s sake. 

Chad rubbed his hand across his face, and slumped back in his seat. “So if you think that’s all it would take to break the curse. Why didn’t you do it then, Sam? Marry him?”

Jared winced. Then took a deep breath and finally admitted to the lie that caused this whole mess. “Because you fucked up. The day you found me. You fucked up.”

“What?” Chad squinted, not understanding.

“I’m not Sam.” Jared threw his arms out to the side and shook his head. “I’m not Sam Winchester of the Boston Winchester’s and I’m not an Omega. Jared Padalecki, Alpha, son of a plumber. Pleased to meet you.”

Chad’s jaw dropped. 

Jared smiled ruefully, shoved his hands in his pockets and left. 

 

******

 

“You look good, son,” Jensen’s father clapped him on the shoulder.

Jensen looked at himself in the mirror, and sighed. He did. Look good. Apart from the dark shadows under his eyes. Jensen hadn’t had one good night’s sleep since his mother had harangued him into accepting Weatherly’s proposal. Regrets and doubts filled his nights rather than any flicker of excitement or joy. 

“Of course he does. Well, he looks...he looks...fine.” His mother said, hardly making Jensen feel any better about himself as she straightened his black bow tie and smoothed down the lapels of his white dinner jacket. “And once you’ve gotten rid of you great great grandfather’s nose, you’ll look even better. Now come along. Everyone is waiting.”

The wedding was outside in the gardens. Hundreds of people seated amongst the fall leaves waiting for Jensen to appear. He knew only a handful of them. Apart from Jeffrey and Misha and the household staff, the only friends he had there were Danneel and Chris. He hoped they’d turned up anyway. Neither of them seemed particularly fond of Michael. Not that Jensen blamed them, he couldn’t stand the guy either. Not his chip on his shoulder attitude. Or his ferret face. Or his sickly sweet scent.

“Let’s go, Jensen,” his mother said as Jensen hesitated in front of the mirror. His feet refusing to budge from the floor despite the expensive Italian shoes they were dressed in. 

“I don’t...I don’t love him, mother.” Jensen admitted. 

His mother linked her hand around his arm and bodily steered him from the room. His father following silently behind. “Of course not, dear. That’s okay.” 

“I’m going to throw up.” Jensen honestly thought he might. 

“Nonsense, Jensen, just remember, a few minutes from now this will all be over. The curse will be broken and you’ll finally be the Ackles you were always supposed to be.”

Violins were playing when Jensen’s mother and father walked him down the flower strewn aisle, flanking him either side. Jensen guessed it looked charming, but in reality his mother’s vice-like grip was entirely to stop him from reversing right back up to the house.

Michael didn’t even look at him until Jensen stopped by his side in front of the minister. Even then the asshole couldn’t look at Jensen’s face, screwing his nose up in distaste. They hadn’t as much as kissed so far. Not that Jensen wanted to kiss the odious creep. But it was undeniably hurtful to know deep down, despite Weatherly’s pretense in front of their parents and the press, that he still thought Jensen was a monster. If his father hadn't forced him into this, he wouldn’t be here now. And if Jensen’s nose didn’t change he wasn’t sure what Michael would do. Probably run. Somewhere far far away.

Jensen couldn’t help but think that’s what he should have done himself.

The minister was more than half way through the service before Jensen even noticed the ceremony had begun. 

“I do,” Michael said, his face a sickly shade of green. 

“And do you, Jensen Ross Ackles, take Michael Percival Weatherly the Third to be your lawful wedded husband, to have and to hold, for better or for worse, for richer or for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, from this day forward, until death do you part?

Jensen stared at Weatherly. He felt nothing. A bleak empty wasteland of nothing. He didn’t want this future. He certainly didn’t want to marry Michael. He didn’t even want to marry an Omega. Was breaking the curse really worth this? 

He glanced over towards the guests, saw his father sitting impassively, his face a well-worn mask of compliance; his mother on the edge of her seat desperately mouthing ‘I do,’ as though she could force the words from Jensen’s mouth through the power of her mind. He spotted Danneel and Chris siting side by side, hands held, shaking their heads frantically. He saw Misha biting his lip and the always implacable Jeff looking at him speculatively. 

“Jensen?” The minister prompted.

Jensen thought about what would happen if this didn’t break the curse. If the curse could never be broken. And it hit him. With simple absolute clarity. Nothing. Nothing would happen. Nothing would change. He would still have his friends. He would still have his little room above the pub. He would still have the life he’d carved out for himself. He would be as happy as he had been for the past few months. Happier. 

“No,” he said to the minister. To everyone. “No, I don’t.”

His mother screamed. The guests gasped. Danneel whooped. Weatherly gawked like a stunned trout. And Jensen ran. Straight back up the stairs leading to the house, chaos unfolding behind him. 

“Jensen...Jensen!” Jensen barely had a chance to lock himself in his room and catch his breath before his mother was knocking on the door. “You panicked; it’s fine. Understandable. But it’s not too late.”

“I am not panicking, mother. I’m calmer than I’ve been in weeks.” Jensen stood behind the door, staring across the room in the mirror. Trying to see what everyone else found so repulsive. So wrong with him. His nose was not his great great grandfathers’. It was his. And he didn’t hate it. “I’m not changing my mind. I’m not marrying Weatherly. Or any other omega.”

Jensen’s mother made a frustrated noise somewhere between a sob and a shriek. “But we were so close, Jensen. Just one simple yes away from a whole new life. A whole new you.”

“Mother,” Jensen snapped. “I don’t want a new life.”

“Sweetheart,” his mother implored. “Please, just listen to reason.”

“No, no. You listen.” Jensen was shouting now. “I don’t want to change. I don’t want a new me. I like my life. I like me. I like me just the way I am!”

Suddenly from nowhere, with Jensen’s words echoing through the room, a whirlwind whipped up around him, lifting him from his feet and stealing the air from his lungs. He felt as though he were drowning and falling and flying all at the same time. Bright white light lit up the entire room and then with a crack of thunder it disappeared. Jensen found himself lying sprawled on his back in the middle of the floor. His ears ringing and heart racing.

And he knew. Knew without a doubt. Everything had changed. And nothing had changed at all.

“Jensen?” His mother called, her voice trembling with worry.

Jensen rolled onto his knees, before slowly climbing to his feet. Then he lifted his head and looked in the mirror. And barely recognized the face staring back.

 

 

“You know,” Jensen’s mother said as he packed the last of his things up. He was leaving for good this time. His father had helped him find and pay for a much nicer apartment not far from the Lucky Heather Pub, and also not far from Jensen’s new job in the little bakery around the corner. Since the curse had been broken, his father seemed to have found a new lease of life, the guilt of knowing his family had burdened Jensen with his nose having finally lifted from his shoulders. Ironically, Jensen’s mother was having the biggest problem dealing with life post curse. “Maybe you could think about having a little work done on your nose, now that the carotid artery isn’t a problem anymore. Just a little turn up, just right there at the tip. It might be sweet?”

Jensen slammed the lid of his suitcase and goggled at her, not quite believing his ears.

His mother turned towards his father who was staring open mouthed. “Don’t you think it would be sweet?” 

“I think you’re crazy.” 

Jensen laughed.

“What? _What?_ ” His mother cried, stamping her feet. “I just want him to be the best he can be. Is that so wrong? I’m his mother! It’s what mothers do!”

Sending Jensen a sympathetic eye roll, his father grabbed his mother’s arm and all but manhandled her from the room. “I think you've done quite enough, dear. Now would be an excellent time to shut up.” 

Jensen was still giggling when Misha walked into the room, a sheaf of papers in his hand. “There’s something I need to tell you, Jensen. Something your mother didn’t want you to know before the wedding.”

Jensen felt his hands go clammy at the sight of Misha’s unusually solemn expression. “We had a visit from that reporter, Chad. He came to apologize. And give us these.” Misha held up the papers. “It’s about Sam Winchester.” Jensen’s heart clenched. “And an Alpha called Jared Padalecki.”

 

*****

 

Jared hated Halloween. This year he did anyway. He normally didn’t mind it at all. Not any more than any other holiday. But this year was a nightmare; everywhere he turned there were kids running around wearing pig-nosed masks. Jensen masks. And wearing the ridiculous scarves too. It was disconcerting to say the least, especially as Jared had just become accustomed to not seeing Jensen’s face everywhere.

In the past few weeks, since the wedding that wasn't, the newspapers’ infatuation with Jensen had died down. Thankfully. The same however, couldn’t be said of Jared’s infatuation. He still dreamt of the pretty Omega every single night. 

Jared wearily taped up another box and piled it up with the others. He was glad he was leaving. He was. Even though he felt as though he were leaving something vital behind. Like his lungs or his heart. But this city held painful memories for him. Too painful. So, he’d found a new job and a new apartment in a new city. And he prayed that distance would help him forget, move on. Now, all he had to do was get through tonight. So far, locking himself in his apartment and ignoring the party the rest of the building was having seemed to be working. Which is why he ignored the knocking on the door for the first few minutes.

Eventually though, when the knocking became irritatingly persistent and showed no signs of abating, he gave in. Expecting to chase off kids, he was too shocked to argue when a woman dressed as a sleek black cat, whom he thought he possibly vaguely recognized, shoved her Jensen-costumed friend into his apartment. “He needs a pee, you don’t mind right?” she said, not giving either of them a chance to argue, before turning tail and prowling away.

Bemused, Jared let the guy into his home. Even though the scarf wrapped around his mouth, and the Jensen mask, covering the top half of his face, was twisting Jared’s stomach into a melancholy knot. Once the door was shut, sealing his little apartment off from the party noise and smells—liquor and smoke and the sickly odor of weed—it soon became apparent that the guy was an Omega. His scent achingly sweet and familiar. Jared’s mind was playing tricks on him, he was sure of it.

“Erm...the bathroom’s over there,” Jared pointed towards the corner of the room, not sure of the etiquette for entertaining uninvited unknown guests. 

“You’re packing?” The guy said, ignoring him and running his fingers across the sealed cardboard boxes. “You’re leaving?”

“Yeah,” Jared said. 

“Why?”

“To get away.” Jared answered. Or non-answered really, because he didn’t owe anybody an explanation. Certainly not a perfect stranger who looked too like the boy he loved. And he did look incredibly like him. Ruffled dirty blonde hair. Green eyes. Freckles. Ears that stuck out just enough to be adorable.

“Away from what? The crowds?”

And that voice. Jared took a step towards him, senses off balance, the room tilting just a little. “Away from the poker tables,” he said, “and memories, and ghosts, and...do I know you?”

“You’re a gambler then?” The Omega ignored his question. “I had a friend once, who liked to gamble. He doesn’t any more apparently. So I heard.”

Jared took another step closer. “Take off your mask.” 

The guy flinched, barely noticeable but there all the same, his hand snapping up to the pig nose that wasn’t his. 

“Sorry,” Jared apologized…to the stranger invading his apartment. “I’m sorry. I’ve just...it’s been hard...all Halloween, I’ve been seeing...imagined that I’ve been seeing...someone I knew. It’s crazy. I’m going crazy.”

The stranger tugged his scarf down finally uncovering his mouth. “This someone, he meant a lot to you?” 

Jared swallowed hard. “Yes. Yes, he did. Everything, I think. He could have meant everything to me.”

A pause, and a head tilt and lips dragged between ridiculously perfect teeth. “What happened?”

“I couldn't give him what he wanted.” It was painful to admit. Not as painful as the look had been on Jensen’s face when Jared had walked away, left him hurt and alone and betrayed. That expression still haunted Jared’s dreams. Nightmares of desolate green eyes. 

“What did he want?”

The question hung in the air between them. 

Plush lips. That freckle sitting helpfully above the Cupid’s bow. Jared knew that freckle. He stepped towards the freckle. The man. Jensen. “To be free.”

And then Jared was kissing those lips, and the lips were kissing back. “Jensen,” he gasped, breaking away. “I’m sorry...”

“It’s okay,” Jensen said, standing on toes and chasing after Jared’s mouth.

Jared couldn’t resist, kissed him again, before remembering and holding him back, a safe arms’ length away. ”No, I’m sorry, so sorry but I don’t have the power to break the curse.”

“It’s okay, it turns out I did.” Jensen slipped the mask from his head, and Jared stumbled backwards. It was Jensen, but not...and he wasn’t sure if....

“It’s okay, Sam, it’s me.”

“It’s Jared. And I’m not...I’m not an Omega.”

“I know,” Jensen smiled and his face lit up and his eyes shone and Jared’s poor shattered heart almost burst from his chest. 

Jensen closed the distance between them, pressing his body flush against Jared’s. His fingers tangling in Jared’s hair. “Alpha,” Jensen murmured against Jared’s lips. “You smell so good.”

No blockers, Jared wanted to say, but he was too busy unravelling Jensen from his scarf. 

Jensen couldn’t keep his lips away from Jared’s. “I’ve never,” he said, nibbling at the corner of Jared’s mouth, gasping when Jared finally unwound his scarf, threw it to the floor, pushed his jacket off his shoulders next. “I’ve never kissed anyone before.”

That should have stopped Jared in his tracks. Should have made him at least slow down. If he’d been a better person he would have sat Jensen down. Talked things through.

“Never?” he asked instead, cupping Jensen’s head, wondering at how sparkling green those eyes were close up. 

“Never,” Jensen admitted, staring at Jared’s lips. “Never done anything.” Jensen’s gaze suddenly broke away, his shoulders slumping. “I’m sorry. I know that’s not—“

Jared’s lips closed over Jensen’s. Kissing him soundly. Not stopping until they were both breathless. “That,” he said just to make it unerringly clear. “Is the hottest thing I’ve ever heard.” And then he kissed Jensen again, eating up every gasp that Jensen lost.

“What do you want?” He asked eventually. Not willing to rush Jensen into anything, despite his body screaming out to take the Omega now. In every way. 

“Everything.” Jensen’s face was flushed. From the tips of his ears down to the hollow of his throat. His delicious lickable throat. Jared clenched his fingers in Jensen’s shirt, holding himself back. 

“Kissing? This?”

“Everything, Jared,” Jensen said, his hands tugging at Jared’s t-shirt. “I want you. I’ve waited...fuck,” Jensen gasped, throwing his head back when Jared couldn’t resist sucking at his earlobe. “I’ve waited too long. Want you now. Want you to show me everything.”

God, Jared wanted that. Wanted it so badly the need was thrumming under his skin like fire. But he had to make sure. This was happening too quickly. “Are you sure?”

“Fuck yes,” Jensen huffed, sliding a hand down the front of Jared’s pants and squeezing. And that was more than Jared could take. The last of his restraint slipped away, and he was pulling at Jensen’s clothes, walking him backwards towards the bed, kissing silk soft lips. 

Shirts were discarded first, tossed carelessly to the floor. Jensen whimpering when Jared laid him down across his bed. “You’re beautiful,” he whispered against the ridge of Jensen’s collar bone. “You were always beautiful to me.” He licked the words into Jensen’s skin. His tongue mapping across starburst freckles, and cream skin and eventually—to the soundtrack of Jensen’s moans—across his rosebud pretty nipples. 

“Your scent,” Jared said, kissing a teasing trail down Jensen’s stomach, his muscles twitching under Jared’s mouth. “It’s.... _god_.” There were no words. Not when Jared’s brain was overloaded by the sight of Jensen spread-eagled across his bed.  

“Yours too,” Jensen sighed, his fingers combing through Jared’s hair, twisting and tugging, and making Jared’s erection press almost painfully against the zip of his pants. Jared never realized his hair was so closely connected to his dick. Or maybe it was just because it was Jensen who was touching him

Jared tried to strip Jensen out of his the rest of his clothes smoothly, careful not to bruise or rush but his flustered fingers fumbled belt buckle, zips, and buttons and they were both cursing and laughing and rosy cheeked by the time Jensen was finally naked. 

And then, “you too,” he said. “I need to see you naked too.” And Jared almost broke his neck shrugging off clothes; toes catching in pants legs and socks obstinately refusing to detach from his feet. 

Although, Jensen’s bubbles of laughter as Jared hopped on the spot trying to kick off the stubborn sock was worth any amount of embarrassment. 

Giggles died away to cherry blush shyness once they were both naked. Jared staring down at Jensen, wonder in his eyes. “Beautiful,” he said again, because it was true and worth repeating. More than once. Forever. For the rest of their lives. If that was what Jensen wanted.

“Is this— “Jared searched for the words. “Us, is this it. Forever? Not just—“

“Yes,” Jensen nodded, eyes bright, determined. “Forever.”

“I’m going to make you mine.” Jared said, warning and promise rolled into one.

Jensen whimpered and spread his legs and Jared was lost.

Jensen’s first time, he repeated. A mantra in his head. The only thing that slowed him down. He needed to be inside Jensen, to feel his Omega wrapped around him in every way. But Jensen deserved time. And teasing. And touching...everywhere. 

He lavished his attention and his mouth on Jensen’s nipples again. Sensitive buds blooming red under Jared’s tongue and teeth. Jared could have stayed there all night, listening to Jensen’s whimpers. Watching the way he squirmed and bucked, and begged for more. 

Eventually though, relenting, he kissed his way down freckle rich skin, licking circles around Jensen’s fluttering navel before slowly, slowly, working lower. Jensen’s dick twitching and red with need long before Jared finally wrapped his lips around it. The noises Jensen made then, almost prompting Jared to come without a touch to his own dick. It was not technically the best blowjob Jared had ever given, but it was probably his most enthusiastic. Definitely the most enjoyable...the taste of Jensen bursting across his tongue fast becoming addictive.

He pulled off before Jensen’s telltale tremors climbed to a peak. Jared considered, briefly, sucking Jensen until he came, letting him spurt sweet and salty down his throat, but Jared was too near to falling over the edge of his own climax. Knew he wouldn’t last long this first time. Not in the face of Jensen’s unabashed desire. And selfishly he wanted to look in Jensen’s eyes as the Omega came, wanted to feel his virgin hole clamp around his knot and milk him dry. 

Jensen’s disappointed whine when Jared licked his dick from root to tip one last time was replaced by a whimper when Jared sucked Jensen’s balls into his mouth, one and then the other, only letting them go to work his way lower still. He pushed Jensen’s legs up, knees bent and bracketing Jared’s head and then, holding strong thighs firm, took his first taste of Jensen’s hole. And the honey sweet taste of his slick. 

Jensen whined and wriggled and Jared hummed in pleasure, slowly opening up his ass with tongue and fingers until slick and spit dripped down the inside of Jensen’s thighs and coated Jared’s chin. 

“Come on. Come on.” Jensen was chanting, his fingers dragging across wrinkled sheets. “Please, Jared, please.”

“Shh,” Jared soothed, against Jensen’s skin, unable to resist sucking Jensen’s smooth tight balls into his mouth one last time, tongue flicking out against sensitive skin, drawing a mewl from Jensen’s bitten red lips. And then, dick almost purple with need, he couldn’t hold back any longer. Pushed into Jensen with reverent care, inch by inch until he was fully sheathed, unable to breathe. Watching Jensen’s eyes grow wide and then flutter closed. 

“Okay?” he whispered.

A nod, green eyes flickering open, and a shaky smile. Jared started moving. Hips thrusting, hands grasping, lips falling against Jensen’s. He was never going to last long. Not with pleasure coiling in his belly from the second he sank inside that never-touched heat. Not with the throaty wordless noises spilling from his Omega. 

It didn’t take long until they reached their peak. Jensen came first, spilling between them with a whine and a body wracking shudder. Jared had no hope of holding back watching that, his orgasm ripping through him as his knot shoved into Jensen one last time before swelling hard, tying them together, Jensen’s ass clamping around Jared’s dick. Jared swore he almost went blind. Ripples of pleasure tearing down his spine, through his veins, sparking across every nerve ending.

He’d never felt anything like it.

“I love you,” Jensen mumbled against Jared’s shoulder when the last aftershocks of their orgasms had subsided, leaving behind the low buzz of pleasure that knotting produced. “But you’re heavy.”

They hadn’t, Jared had to admit, tied in the most comfortable position. He rolled them onto their sides, rearranging limbs until they were both comfortable. 

“Are you still leaving?” Jensen murmured, his breath hot against Jared’s throat, fingers tangled in Jared’s hair where it lay in damp curls at the back of his neck.

“Never,” Jared growled, the idea of leaving Jensen now twisting like a knife in his gut. “I love you. You’re never going to get rid of me.”

Jensen sucked a bruise into the curve of Jared’s throat, both of them shuddering as his hole squeezed around Jared’s knot. “Good,” he said, a low throaty purr against Jared’s skin. “That’s one curse I’m more than happy to live with.”

 

***********

 

“And we lived happily ever after. So far at least.” Jensen smiled and tucked the blanket around his daughter.

“But I don’t get it,” Milly whined. 

“What don’t you get, honey?” Jensen asked, trying not to laugh at his daughter’s confused pout.

“What does it all even mean?”

 "What do you think it means?”

“That everything was grandma’s fault?”

“No,” Jensen snorted. “No, sweetheart.”

“I’m gonna get a piggy nose if I’m bad?”

“Goodness, no!” Jensen laughed. He didn’t know where his daughter got her ideas. “No, Milly, I promise. And even if you did, you would still be beautiful and daddy and I would still love you to the moon and back.”

“Hmph,” Milly stuck out her bottom lip. She was adorable. 

“It means,” Billy said, in his superior six year old big brother voice. “That it’s not the power of the curse, it’s the power you give the curse.”

“That’s right, Billy, well done.” Jared said, from the doorway, the sight of his lopsided smile as always making Jensen’s heart skip a beat. 

“But what about the witch?” Milly, with all her four year old tenacity, was not ready for the story to finish. 

“Well, according to family legend—“

“Your father,” Jared cut in. “According your father.”

Jensen rolled his eyes, but couldn’t disagree. “According to grandpa, Jeffrey the butler was the witch all along.”

“Jeffrey? Jeffrey who sends us postcards and money for our birthdays?"

“Yep,” Jensen said, kissing Milly on the head and smoothing down her crazy blonde curls before moving to tuck Billy in. “Once I married Dad, Jeff took his running shoes and upped and left. Grandpa swears he saw him turn into a witch and fly away on his broomstick in the middle of the night. He even took Miss Hilary our cat with him. And Grandpa’s sure that he placed a spell on grandma just before he left too, because she lost her voice for three whole months.”

And Jensen’s dad had enjoyed every last second of it.

“Wow,” Billy said, eyes wide. “That’s cool.”

Jensen wasn’t sure whether Billy meant Jeff being a witch or Grandma losing her voice, but he guessed either way, it was all pretty cool. Kisses and cuddles and bedtime rituals completed, Jensen and Jared left the kids to—hopefully—fall asleep.

Retreating to the kitchen Jared poured them out a couple of glasses of wine. “You never had a pet cat, Jensen, and you father didn’t really see Jeff fly off on a broomstick did he?”

“Not a broomstick, no.” Jensen admitted, taking a glass from Jared. “But he did see him ride off on his Harley with Hilary, the neighbors’ housekeeper.”

Jared laughed and shook his head. “I hope you told the kids the family friendly version of the fairytale.” 

Jensen smirked. “Of course; I thought it best not to scar our children for life. A kiss was as far as the story went.”

“Well,” Jared wiggled his eyebrow. “How about we go reenact the X-rated version.”

And Jensen couldn’t refuse an offer that smooth. “Just as long as I still get my happy ending,” he grinned, against Jared’s mouth.

 

 

_Finis_

_Thank you for reading!_

 

 


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